


Colors of Holmes

by cuulaiid



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6634126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuulaiid/pseuds/cuulaiid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The color of human eyes changes with an individual's current emotions. One person is born without this trait and is mistrusted by many people, but revered by others. The Holmes have to live with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors of Holmes

"The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart." - St. Jerome

* * *

 

When Siger and Violet have their first bundle of joy in their arms, they stare at each other lovingly. They are proud, overjoyed by finally having their little son. Each one of their eyes is in a calm and warm blue tone before they lock gazes after looking at their son's eyes open up. The Holmes' eyes turns a tumultuous shade of gray. The little newborn had steel eyes, a pair of little eyes looking at their faces, without the wavering change of color you find in a baby. Joy, wonder, amusement _should_ be there, but his little bright eyes are steady, unwavering.

They don't _shift_. It makes Siger's heart sting. His baby, the first of many he wants to have with the love of his life, doesn't have his eyes, neither hers. They don't change as they should. They are bright, brilliant eyes, but it's steadiness makes him feel odd, uneasy. He want to see the eyes of a newborn baby: brown, blue, green in his sons eyes. 

But none of those colours is present in this eyes, they are a sort of watery green-gray, tempo teal, a middle color, a thinking tone, calculative. _He's just a baby, his eyes will change_ he thinks, not really convinced at the lie he tells himself to hold steady and not run away. He couldn't do it, even if he tried. Their life seemed so pleasant, so perfect. Now it's upside down.

They should report the fact that his son is one in millions, a rarity, a 'genetic mistake', as _they_ like to call them. His son is not a mistake, his son is a wonder. In those few seconds after gazing as his teal eyes, he refuses to do it. A marvelous tiny baby should not tainted by their titles, will not be reaped away from them when he's older because they can not allow someone like him to roam around freely. His son will not be taken away from them. So he plots, he stares at them and vows that he will protect his kid from them. He remains by the bed, with a deep despair in his soul because of the choices he'll have to make. The fact that he'd have to reset his whole life, that his wife would have to do the same. The brilliant mother of his lovely child. His eyes turn the color of storm clouds, twirling in shades of gray.

Violet smiles at the baby, and her eyes shine brightly blue at her son, her Mycroft. She knows he's going to be a wonderful child, no matter what his eye color indicates.

As a mathematician, she refuses to believe in something other than logic. It tells her that his son's eyes are not a mistake, are not a horrible mutation that turns him into a criminal. They all say that people with un-shifting eyes, as her baby's, should be put into institutions that could manage them better. It's a myth that people with steady eyes are not to trust. She knows it, deep in her heart.

She comes from a family full of secrets like this. Her father was a great men, with eyes like his son's. Teal colored, bright. His nephew, may he rest in peace, was a wonderful soul with a brilliant mind, without the eye color modulations that people normally have. Her family comes from a big tree of un-shift, and she had a _tiny_ probability of having her offspring affected by it. But it doesn't determine their value. It will not make them less human.

As she adjusts painfully in her hospital bed, the baby in her arms wails softly for a second, then moves around for a little. She tucks him in a little better, and he settles comfortably inside his blanket. Her eyes shine bright blue, clear as a summer sky. Her baby boy is beautiful and marvelous indeed.  

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" She said, finally, offering her a finger to the babe, who took it eagerly and wrapped it's tiny little fingers around it.

"I'm a little worried Violet." Siger said, with a crease between his eyebrows."They are going to make fun of him" he lies to her, and she looks at him and knows it.

Someday she'll share her burden of secrets, but not today. She's too tired. His eyes are turning dark, foggy. His worry for his kid's life softens her heart, swelled with love for her husband. 

"Then we'll have to teach him to fend them off. Although..." Violet then stared at their baby, which eyes were wide and steely, a tiny bundle of resolution in her arms. "I think that won't be necessary"

"I trust your instincts my love." He said after a second, leaning and kissing her forehead.

 

* * *

 

 

Years later, after realizing that the little hopes he had on her son's eyes to change like theirs do on occasion will never be fulfilled, he settled into wonder and amazement at their son. Siger often sighed agreeably after the little child, as they could not control him anymore. They tried at first, but he was too resolute, too logic. That was just his steel will.

While having a late breakfast one morning, Siger watched Violet sigh and straighten her back. It was a resolute gesture, much like their son's. It meant that she was bracing herself to say something important, as if having a perfect posture could give her courage. Maybe it did. He set his fork aside and stared at his beautiful wife. Often wondered if he'd ever stop adoring her the way he did, and tried to memorize the stillness in her expression as he took the cup of tea from the saucer.

"Siger... I must confess something" she voiced, in a strained tone. Sounding like the words pouring from her lips stung her. "I... I knew there was a probability that Mycroft would have un-changing eyes".

The cup slipped from his hand and clattered down, splattering the table with it's contents and shattering against it. His mouth was wide open in surprised shock.

"What? How... How is that even possible, Violet?"

"My father. You didn't know him because he left my family long time ago, Siger. His eyes were, well, like Mykkie's."

Her eyes were glossy, like it pained her deeply to touch this subject. But it was due. She felt as if the weight of the secret was dragging her down. It was straining her from the desire to be mother again. And as much as she'd like to keep it a family secret, she couldn't take that step to motherhood again, making the choice alone, knowing he might not want another kid like him if he knew. They'd have to make that decision together, if he chose to be with her after this.

"I don't understand why you didn't told me of this before." he said after a silence that seemed eternal. He stood up to pick a towel and Violet stared at him, trying to form her words coherently.

"I couldn't" she mustered.

"Yes, you could've told me Violet. You shouldn't keep secrets from me." he said, picking the saucer up and setting the tiny pieces of china inside of it with meticulous precision. 

"I couldn't tell you, it isn't my secret to share" She uttered, her voice strained.

"However not? You have the unwavering gene, you've always known that our son could be like this." 

"It's a family secret, Siger. My father suffered from it. Also the son of my brother. They both carried the gene of unwaver, it tends to skip two generations."

"It's also a _family secret_ " she picked the bitterness in his tone at those words "that your aunt Petunia had a son with the gardener and yet you told me of it."

She smiled faintly at the memory. His tone was caustic, fiery. 

"I'm aware of my slip. You'd just done that thing you do with your tongue and I lost my concentration." He smiled at her, but his eyes were still foggy, twirling shades of gray with tiny hints of black.

"But you just said your nephew had them too" he picked the conversation back up "It means that you knew our kids _could_ have it too" he pointed, looking at her while angrily cleaning the mess of tea on the mantle.  

"It is a thing of chance. I did... I did the math. It was highly improbable. Your family never had a person without a change. The Holmes I've known have bright eyes, with visible changes" Violet breathed "I did the math!" she said, with a high pitched voice, almost in the verge of tears.

"I don't care about the math!" he said, smashing the soiled cloth into the table with a thud. "YOU SHOULD'VE TOLD ME!"

She couldn't remember a time when he screamed at her, but understood perfectly his reasons for it. So she took it elegantly, trying to hold the shivers.

"I'm sorry, Siger." she managed to mutter before starting to sob quietly. Her husband stood still for a second, boiling in anger at the secret she kept from him. But he loved her _so_ much. "I-I understand if you want to leave us, if you don't want to have another..." he interrupted her.

"I just wish you wouldn't kept it from me, Violet" he said adoringly, turning around the table to stretch his arms around her sobbing shape. "Things would be very different, you see." He breathed against her head, caressing her hair between his hands. 

"H-how s-so?" she hiccuped against his chest.

Just then toddler Mycroft entered the room dragging a gigantic book and he dissolved into laughter, with his wife following his laughter a second after.

He would not have chosen anything differently.  His son was a kid with an odd talent, slightly feared by people around him. It made them proud, although a little afraid sometimes. He was too little and _very_ good at machinations. He picked him up and gave him a tight hug, murmuring loving words to him and picking the book to read him. It was their son's cue to reading time, dragging the book around until someone read it to him. He put the child in the floor again and held his wife's face between them, them proceeded to thumb away the tears away from Violet's eyes.

"I don't know about you love, but I'd love another pair of unwavering eyes in this house" She smiled so brightly about that that her face seemed to split, shining radiantly at the joy of that statement, her eyes turning grass green at him. 

***

Even as a little kid, he was commanding over his few kindergarten classmates, and people approached him for advise. He was an avid reader of classics, politics and geography, and he had his room filled to burst of books. He also was quick with languages, so they were in several languages, too. They bought them for him, took him to bookstores and let him roam around freely. With that, they'd often found themselves staring as his eyes turned an alarming shade of gold when one of them caught his attention.

"Mykkie, what are you reading?" His dad asked about the heavy tome he had between his hands.

"Politics, Papa" he said flatly. Siger stared at him, wondering why a few pages of politics could turn his eyes the shade that people associated with lust, deep desire. "Why?" 

"Your eyes are yellow". He pointed calmly, seizing his reaction.

"WHAT?" Mycroft stood up violently, startling his father. The little kid ran towards the bathroom, with his father behind his heels. He climbed up the little bench he had to reach the sink. Then looked at the mirror and stared in horror. "This is... Impossible."

"Mykkie, that's normal" his father chimed, perched elegantly in the door frame. 

"To me is _not_ normal Papa, my eyes don't change". He said, looking worriedly at his reflection."They shouldn't." he sentenced.

Siger found himself grinning as he turned away from the bathroom door. His son had changing eyes. They just weren't as open to emotion as his or Violet's.

 She had told him that her father's eyes could actually change from time to time. It made him feel a little easier. Maybe sometime in the future his son's eyes wouldn't be seen as a weakness, maybe someday his son could live among other's without being stared at. Deep down within him he knew his son would be important. It wasn't made out of something as pure parent thought, no, his son was determined. Little, serious and brilliant. A tiny genius with a keen eye for observation. His Mykkie would make them more proud, if possible. 

After having him point out his eyes changing into desire and intense interest, Mycroft started to make it disappear slowly. His son did something not many could, if any besides him: Control the few emotional changes he had, so they didn't show. As they affected his eyes, he developed a method to control his emotions. One day Violet asked about it at dinner and he said flatly that he would moderate sentiment. They didn't push it further. Both of them loved their son, and that was enough for everyone.

Besides, he had a path to follow, a job to do. Nothing could go astray, the little Holmes was going to get into politics. He told them so. His life was planned up ahead of time and nothing would detour him of his main goal: Being Britain's PM. Then one day his mother came out of the bathroom flustered and dazed after throwing up at the scent of yogurt. After her, his father hurrying to get a wet cloth with a cheeky grin on his face and Mycroft sighed. All his plans had to take a temporary detour. He was going to be a big brother.

***

His mother swelled and grew, big and happy in the throes of pregnancy. Violet had cravings, such as dark coffee with two sugars, without the cream she used to put into, an abnormal amount of sweets, specially scones and biscuits, dark chocolate and peanut butter. It distracted him, the thought of life growing inside of her.

Mycroft had never thought of himself as something other than an only kid, with the unwavering love and understanding of his parents. Now he'd have to share it with someone else. It disturbed his peace. Now he'd also have to tutor a kid, shape the little fellow into an exemplar human being such as himself. He was sulking in her own way, staring at the flames of the fireplace that picked and floated behind the screen. His parents were now in a OB/GYN appointment, finding out the sex of the fetus.

The gender of his little _sibling_. It made him feel strange, overjoyed. 

They had a nanny for him, and she was sitting down in the couch reading a vapid magazine. Silly neighbor girl of jet black hair and round eyes, with her cheater high school boyfriend that the little kid manipulated into good behavior not so long ago. He hated the other nannies his parents had tried because they tried to mold him into something he wasn't, they made endless stupid chatter he didn't care about and were despicable in general, but Anna was the most agreeable of them. She didn't get into his business, and he behaved nicely with her because of that. He didn't want to risk his peace and try endless nannies because she _might_ have a row with the idiot she chose to spend time with. He needed the stability, he lied to himself to avert the fact that he had a mild fancy for his nanny, so he blackmailed the boyfriend into monogamy. He grinned at the memory, amusing himself as the door swung open.

His mom had his hand twirled inside his father's, a while smile plastered on her face. But Mycroft dismissed the affectionate gesture, as he was intently staring at their eyes. His father's were his usual blue, as were his mother's. There was nothing, not a clue as why they were smiling that way. It disturbed him profoundly, how they were open about love. To him it was a hindrance in his plans, sentiment. Little he was, but oh he knew that it was the weakness of the human race. His parents closed the door behind them and stared at their son with the same loving eyes. 

  
"Good afternoon Anna!" His father said, smiling gleefully. He turned and started taking off his wife's coat with a loving gesture on his face. Mycroft scoffed silently.

  
"Hello Anna. How did our little angel behaved?" His mother asked her, free of the coat and looking at him with loving eyes, while his father muttered something about tea and went into the kitchen.

  
"Welcome home!" She said, standing up and setting aside the magazine. "He's been wonderful as usual. He ate his lunch and did his homework, then I fed him a little snack and tea, and we sat here to read" she finished, picking up the magazine and showing it off with a swirl of her hands.

  
His mother stared at him for a second, as if daring him to make a snappy remark about the lecture his nanny chose to entertain herself. Even his mother found it ghastly and vacuous. She looked at the table next to him. It had two heavy books on international rights. If she chose to wither her mind, it was none of his business.

"Very well Anna. I'm so happy you were available today. Siger will give you your payment, he's in the kitchen" she indicated and sat with a content sigh on the settee next to the fire as the nanny gathered her things, brushed her hand across Mycroft's hair and went to fetch her payment. 

When the nanny was finally dispatched, his parents sat in the living room, smiling at him. Their eyes were twirling blue, brilliant as a summer sky, deep shades of love towards him. He swallowed hard as his mind traveled the different things that their wicked smiles could mean. The possibilities... Twins? It was highly improbable that the pregnancy was of twins. He'd hate to be older brother to _two_ siblings, they'd outnumbered him and he didn't like that disadvantage. As he turned an alarming shade of green, his eyes turned skyward. He couldn't have twin brothers, how horrid that would be!

Sister? If she turned out to be not like him? More like his nanny?! Oh, a vacuous little sister would be so so _so_ horrible! His parents were standard good looking people, the child would be beautiful of course. He'd have to fend off guys of her! It would be so bothersome.

A brother? Another male in the house would be great, he'd teach him many things of course. He'd be his right hand. But there was always the possibility of the child being an idiot. Like normal kids were. He wished he could do something to control the intelligence of this tiny fetus. He groaned painfully. All the chances of that thing growing inside his mother's womb.

Violet laughed at the little dramatic flare of soon-to-be older child.

  
"Mykkie, you are going to be a wonderful big brother" she said simply. He bit his lip not to respond that with a snappy remark. _Of course he was going to be perfect, as he was in every aspect!_

  
"Big brother indeed" his father said and he shivered. The way the phrased it made him feel like the air was sucked out of his tiny lungs. He felt the intonation, he saw the spark of joy in his parent's eyes.

   
"IS IT A BOY?!" he screamed and jumped out of the couch, then stared at them in sheer horror. He sat back, composed himself by straightening his back, putting his hands on his lap in a regal matter, and stared at his parents, flushed a deep shade of red. "I'm sorry, I-I lost my temper..." He apologized softly, and looked at them. Loving eyes, forgiving, trusting and familiar. "Is—Is it a boy?"

  
"Yes!" His parents said in unison, and in a movement that was completely out of his normal personality and control, he ran into their arms to give them a hug.

A brother.

A _little_ brother.

_Oh brother mine._

When he drew away from the hug he was flushed, ashamed of his behavior. But to his parents delight, his eyes were shimmering in green shades of total happiness. They looked at each other as he apologized for his outburst. Their eyes were also the color of grass, their son's deep joy was all they could wish for.  

 

 


End file.
